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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726651">wide eyed with heart made full of fright</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, damn if they could both just get over their pride we wouldn’t be here huh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726651</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam lets himself feel for a moment. Just a moment, after a mission gone wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Detective/Adam du Mortain, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wide eyed with heart made full of fright</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title is a lyric from ‘the wolf’ - mumford and sons</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Well, that mission went well!" Farah falls back onto the couch, sinking into the soft plush cushions with her hands behind her head, sharp teeth poking out of her wide smile. </p>
<p>Morgan snorts, "No one died, at least." </p>
<p>An unsettling silence fogs the room, one that Farah easily remedies. "Lighten up, we-"</p>
<p>"Farah, don't." Adam's voice comes out strained, the usually stern tone crumbling with every syllable. Nate spares him an uneasy glance, a feeling settling into his bones - the feeling of a rocky ship on storm-worn waves, but this is not his fight, he can only look with eyes frozen with anticipation. But he can't help but wonder, will they crash, and if they do will they find the shore or sink below the surface?</p>
<p>No good can come of this. </p>
<p>A sigh spills from his lips, and he runs a hand down his face. My god, what has he gotten himself into. </p>
<p>Adam can't take the silence anymore, he trudges out of the room, but his shoulders sag despite his stiff posture, he doesn't quite care though, let them see. Let them all see - the detective will be his undoing. There's a hand that reaches out to him when he leaves, he shrugs it away, and the door slams behind him. </p>
<p>When he enters the hallway he doesn't expect to see her, red-rimmed eyes and all. She looks worse than she feels, she assures him, but he doesn't believe her. "Detective."</p>
<p>The only word in his vocabulary, she thinks, and at least it's her title - at least it's <em>her</em> title. </p>
<p>"Agent." The only word in her vocabulary, he almost scowls, but at least she's looking at him - at least it's <em>her</em>.</p>
<p>"I am... sorry about your arm." His gaze falls on her wound, transfixed, but not by the blood seeping through her bandages, <em>never</em>, but by the bandage itself - it shouldn't be there.</p>
<p>A testament to his failures, every scar on her body haunts him.</p>
<p>"It's..." She looks down, an evaluation of what weakness she can show. "It's fine."</p>
<p>But it's not, it's not <em>fine. </em></p>
<p>"I cannot help but feel that I have failed you." He reaches out, scars of his own run wild across his knuckles, a perpetual redness tinging his skin from 900 years of combat. He takes her hand, so soft and gentle in his own. He forgets himself, alarms going off in his head, but he takes the dive - he brings her hand to his lips, his gaze never breaking from her piercing hazel eyes. She feels her breath catch in her throat, she feels like she's drowning.   </p>
<p>He searches her face, every scar, every blemish, every rise and dip of her skin. Her dark eyes, clear and dangerous as night, the curl of hair left on her forehead—he aches to brush it away.</p>

<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“You are...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Beautiful. Perfect. My only one...</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mind runs wild with impossible possibilities.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Overwhelming. Everything.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She longs to hear him say it again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A mistake.” </p>
  <p>And he remembers himself once again. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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